The Marks of Resistance
by peppermintyrose
Summary: A codicil to Consumption. Sookie contemplates some difficulties. DITF Chapter 1.


_Disclaimer: All of the following is thoughtfully rearranged from the original works of Charlaine Harris. So I cannot scream MINE._

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This is as close to ESN as I will ever get. Imagine this as you will as a codicil to Consumption – but we skipped Saturday due to your humble writer's inability to have a creative writing bone in her brain and due to **Thyra10**, the cause of all my problems and reason for all my fictions. In my defence – hey some of you wanted the week to continue. Careful what you wish for. :P

Thank you to **Miss Construed**, who through our frantic PM's on every subject but the kitchen sink, just getting me to mention I wanted to write a fic on this theme lead me to a breakthrough on _how_ to write it, because dot points are not at home on Fanfiction net.

And thank you to **A Dreamt Theme**, who is directly responsible for some of the points about intimidation, police raids and bad business. Much love to her.

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Contains spoilers from Chapter 1 of "Dead in the Family" – you have been warned, those of you who wish to savour DITF as a whole body of work.**

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Eric left last night just before I fell asleep. I wish I could say I was lying there in a pool of contentment, but happiness seems as far away as ever. Sadly, the bedroom magic hasn't manifested, but I have hope. That's not to say that things haven't been nice or pleasurable, but they haven't been _satisfying_ as they always were before _The Incident. _I haven't been able to let go and really get into it, really enjoy sex with Eric, as I always have done.

I considered the sheer providence that provided Eric as my main squeeze (or whatever silly name came to me for our undefined relationship – I once called him "my concubine" in the privacy of my head, but that's alright – crazy Sookie can laugh at nothing in the town of Bon Temps) after my troubles. Like New Orleans after Katrina, I could be changed, but renewed and strong again in the bedroom, I have no doubt. It would take time, but I had time with a skilled man who was more than he seemed. Until then, I wish I had that jar, so that I could feel those heady sensations that seem to have been easy so long ago.

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As I considered my own inability to get happy moments, as I called them, from our lovemaking, I thought about Eric's own sexual past. I knew what went on at Fangtasia. Some men and women came there for the awesome skills of vampires. I'd heard it straight from their heads. That was fine with me. I was aware of that from the first night that I met him. He'd told me that night that Dawn had liked pain, and that he'd been with her. On the surface, that scared me, and makes me feel slightly sick. But, at least he'd qualified it with the idea that she liked it. Must have been something she wanted, and I'd seen leading up to her death that she'd put herself in precarious and dangerous positions. Sometimes people run that way. Not me of course, having known the depths of pain. It's just not in my nature to associate sex with punishment. If I did that, I'd never have sex again. My life contains enough pain that I don't wish for more pain, or more excitement in that form at all.

On the positive side of that knowledge (and goodness knows I need positive right now) it means that Eric has enough skill that he can tailor his own desires to the woman in question – and I'd seen him do that with men too. He knew how to play that game, as I'd found out recently, his being with me now, more than a thousand years after he was born, relied on Eric being able to fill the needs of others. Except now it involved willingness.

He'd told me recently that his maker, Appius Livius Ocella had compelled him to get to 'know' him, sexually. I remember the horror with which that later struck me. Proud and relatively independent Eric had been a slave to another's passion, forced into service in order to please his maker. He told me, and he had no shame about it, but quickly changed the subject. He didn't want to pick over it, and to be honest, neither did I. While he didn't seem to feel much shame about it, I can't imagine that you would be able to just get over that sort of damage and move on as if it hadn't happened. I mean, it just wasn't his fault that Appius chose him, but that didn't take it away and make it not happen.

I thought about that in terms of my own troubles. Eric was all about control. Having to submit to his maker definitely would have been a traumatic experience, in and of itself. To have to submit to doing something he didn't want to do, and had no choice in doing – I shuddered at the very idea. After a thousand years he spoke of being _desperate to get away_, and the fact that his maker's desire for men took _getting used to_. After such a long time, it affected him so deeply.

Eric was tough – he'd been through a lot in his very long life. That it still affected him so greatly gave me an idea as to the magnitude of horror that his first years with his maker must have been. I remember the night of the orgy – I'd found that place just disgusting – people all over each other with dead hearts and empty smiles, and it horrified me. I believed him utterly when he told me that it was _nothing_ compared to some of the places he'd been. That raised the question about some of the places Eric had been. When I thought about how dismal it was in their heads, I shuddered at what could be compared to that if that he considered _nothing_. I could see why Eric didn't want me to imagine it.

I wondered if Appius created the need for control that Eric had, but somehow I doubted that. He'd told me that he grew up the son of a chief and was in control of his own life long before Appius came along. Eric had been used to getting what he wanted for years before Appius came along – without doubt. He wouldn't have been in complete control of his life, but he would have had more control than others.

But it occurred to me – Eric, quick witted and in control forced into a situation like that would have been intolerable. But scratch that – if you're a vampire, you have to tolerate it. Eric told me that he hadn't been with a man before he was turned, and that he didn't have that in common with Appius. I'd never gotten a hint that he was anything but into women – asking him to pretend to be gay at the orgy was something I thought he would baulk at. I can't imagine that the macho culture of the Vikings had much space for the submissive partner in the relationship, even if it was more liberal than our society.

It wasn't some sexual exploration of his own free will, on his own terms and at his own pace. I know the feeling of inevitability that I had with Uncle Bartlett – I _know_ that feeling that you can't escape. That no matter what you do, you have no say because you're smaller, younger and you have no power. Eric told me that he had no choice because Appius was far stronger. The other person decides what you'll do, and I know the hopelessness that comes from feeling no one will help. I had my grandmother, but Eric had no one. What he had was a compulsion to do what his maker told him. The thought made me shiver.

Even worse, you might come to like it. Eric talked about finding it enjoyable _eventually_. He talked about _getting used to it_. I've never heard anything more dismal than the idea of getting used to sex and finding it eventually enjoyable – that doesn't speak to something you want to do – that speaks to something you are forced to do. His message to me that night was crystal clear – his maker didn't care that he wanted a life and his children, he didn't care that Eric wasn't interested in having sex with him. Eric was nothing to Appius. Becoming a vampire meant losing all of his dignity – flashing about in rags and living in holes, and sexual servitude to a maker he didn't want.

Sure, I wasn't having many happy moments myself at the moment – but the only person who forced me to be there was me. I wanted to feel that connection again, and I figured if I kept at it, I would be able to eventually. But it wasn't Eric's decision – it was mine. I knew he kept asking me if I really wanted to do this because he knew what it was like to be subject to the desires of others without regard to what you want in your own heart. That's a far cry from the idea of Eric's early years – doing what someone else wanted until he _eventually_ enjoyed it.

I saw clearly that it had come through time with him so strongly that it affected the way he interacted with others. Eric cherished his control over himself, but he also gave that control to others. He didn't seek to control everyone else's bodies either. Pam had told me that Eric hadn't forced himself on her – and Felicia and Indira liked Area Five because Eric didn't force himself on his underlings. I wondered how many vampires had taken residence in this Area just because of that very reason. I'm sure it's a lot.

I remember the contempt with which he spoke to me of vampires who make Renfields, and it didn't seem to me that having all of the control was so important to him - control over his own self, and a large measure of control over interactions, sure, but not that sort of suffocating and time consuming control of one person. He'd told me that he had had many women, and almost utter control over them - but I didn't know if that extended to sex - he was talking about the blood exchange making us equal at the time - that he didn't use his power against me. Since he hadn't endeavoured to control me before the time that we'd exchanged, I thought it unlikely that that was something he did. Andre was certain that having his blood could make me controllable, and I had no reason to doubt it. But Eric never used his blood to control me. I can't see that he would force his attentions on human women and not be tempted to do with the lovely female vampires in his Area. Even though I felt no attraction to women, there's no doubt that they are lovely. In my own experience with Eric, he'd never forced me to do anything I didn't want to do – he just had one hell of a persuasion technique. He used every ounce of his skill, passion and playfulness to persuade me, but he never forced me to do what he wanted.

I wondered if that made any difference as to why he turned down Hallow's offer. After all, she may have been a witch and a were, but Pam and Chow couldn't understand why he'd turned her down and tried to convince him it was a good deal. Until I figured it out, no one knew that there was a possibility that she might drain him either. I think perhaps that even if he liked Hallow, the idea of being enslaved and whoring himself struck deep in Eric, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't engage in being in sexual servitude by his own will the first time, so I doubt he would do it now, man or woman.

It was clear right from the first night I met him that his goal was to get me into bed. But he didn't cross any lines to do that. In fact, he'd pulled back the moment I refused him – only once did he hesitate to stop what he was doing – and that was a split second in a kiss, high on battling and blood from Un-Lucky the Were Assassin. Eric didn't take it any further than I wanted it to go – he was above that. Hell – even I resisted breaking off one of his kisses, so I had as much control as he did. After all, he'd told me that kissing me was very exciting to him, and I know I felt the same way about his kisses. The chemistry between us was just amazing.

In fact, when I looked back at situations we'd been in, I saw the hallmarks everywhere – he listened to me when I'd told him no sex when we blood bonded in the hallway at Rhodes. When we were in Mississippi, rather than leave me lying down, he put our bodies into a position that would take considerable manoeuvring to actually do anything we didn't wish to do – yet another layer of control that he tried to have over his own actions. When I stopped him from taking our heavy petting any further – both at the interruption of Bubba and at my own instigation at the orgy, he took me at my word and stopped. No matter how worked up we got together, Eric never did anything that I didn't want to do – or if he did he stopped right after I'd pulled back – it wasn't his style or his way. Not on a personal level anyway – business was another matter.

I wonder if he'd always been like that. When he was at my house, under Hallow's curse, he didn't touch me in the shower in a sexual manner until I gave him the go ahead. Eric left the decision up to me as to how far I took it – and I don't know how much he knew about his own general thoughts and principles. Of course, he didn't remember his own name, so I doubt he remembered his reasons for doing such things.

Forcing people, whether human or vampire, didn't seem like something he did. He was a giant man, but he'd always been conscious of his physical presence, and didn't try to use his size to bully me. His size was intimidating enough, and he didn't try to use that size to force me to do what he wanted. He'd once grabbed my shoulders hard, but he eased up as soon as I complained about it. He didn't remove his hands, but Eric's never had much recognition of personal space. Maybe that's a Viking thing, living in all those close quarters.

Of course, Bill told me that Eric had a fantastic reputation in bed that first night at Fangtasia. I don't think he got that because he frightened women into doing what he wanted. For one thing, that's not good business practice, and doesn't encourage return customers or keep you under the police radar. I doubt it would work well for his tame public image if Eric was known for a stream of half naked women leaving his bed, unless he had an extensive female wardrobe full of replacement garments. I dare say I have his desire not to be constantly replacing the clothing of fangbangers to thank for the fact that Eric was easier on my clothes than Bill ever was. Eric would be hip deep in torn clothing, with a running tab for clothes if he was someone who tore things. But it meant keeping my favourite bras, so it was all good.

I'd never read anything that horrified me from the women at Fangtasia, and that made it a bit easier. He might have had thousands of women, but he didn't get off on traumatising them. I think if he did that I never would have given him the time of day. I realise people have preferences – oh the joy of telepathy – but even fangbangers deserve control over what vampires do to them. It's been easy to trust him with my physical safety, but if I'd ever gotten a whiff that he was a cruel and brutal man, I would have rescinded his invitation long ago and not gone near him again. Being a vampire makes him scary enough without making him a vampire rapist. They were out there - Mickey was proof of that, as was Michael SansFang I'd seen at the trial at the Summit - vampires who thought they should get everything they want just because they want it.

During the time he was at my house, Eric was genuinely affectionate – rubbing his face along my thigh – and he'd done similar things before he was cursed. The night he told me that Bill was missing; he rubbed his hands up and down my arms and his cheek against mine. Never once had he been rough or overbearing with me, with or without his memory. He'd never done more than give me a few small bruises – and of course, a bite – but that's par for the course when you're having sex with a vampire. Maybe it was just in his nature to be gentle and tactile, like a big cat.

So I figure that it's not just Eric's skills in bed, but also his history. I can lose control around him because he doesn't try to wrest it from me. Eric has recovered from something that still shakes him today, his lack of control in what happened with his body. He makes sure that all those who surround him have that for themselves, as much as they can. If it's sexual healing I'm looking for, I know that he understands not just the technical aspects, but also the emotional and mental ones.

Eric had endured and come back from violence, found his desire again, found passion and gentleness. Despite the marks of resistance it had left on his soul, he had come back to simple physical joy. With my broken body, broken psyche and broken soul, I have confidence that he would show me the way.


End file.
